My silent soul doth softly slumber
Caressing me so warm within
As I lay feeling waking wonder
I know I must return, ascend.

Being me, yet more than "me"
I question not my knowing

Got a dime for an old man's rhyme?
I'll dance for you in scruffy shoe
I slurs sometime, excuse the wine.

I hears the beat of the city street
And speak my verse for good or worse

It runs thru my brain
like a train...like
a train on a black track...clickity-clack
I'll be back...or I'll go thru..to you
mak'n sense..or not

OUR BURNT OUT SOIL AND BURNT OUT MEN
CREATE NARCISSISTIC STONES OF DUNG
AS VIOLENT SHADOWS LOOSE THEIR SOULS
DEVOUR THE MEAT AND RAPE THE YOUNG.

ALL CLOTHED IN PAIN'S DECEITFUL THOUGHTS

WILL REASON TELL ME WHY I LIVE TODAY?
WHAT VALUE LIFE DOES HAVE UPON THIS EARTH
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I FINALLY PASS AWAY?

BELIEFS ATTEMPT TO GIVE ME MY OWN WAY

MY UP IS DOWN, MY LIGHT IS BLUE
LORD, HAVE MERCY, I'VE LOST MY SHOE
IS THERE A FRIEND TO HELP ME THROUGH?

I HAVE NO PAST, I HAVE NO CLUE
MY BRAIN IS NUMB AND I AM TOO

THE CYCLE OF THE CLOCK HAS BEEN DISTILLED
AND MINUTEMEN WERE CALLED TO CHECK THE TIME
REVOLUTION OF THE HANDS SEEMED UNFULFILLED.

THE TICKING SEASON'S CYCLE HAS BEEN STILLED